


Trip Section

by LydiaBSlade



Series: Destination Unknown [4]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Military, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, BenArmie AU, Blow Jobs, Dirty Talk, Everyone is Jewish except Hux (and Darth Vader), First Time Topping, Hux is problematic, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Light Angst, M/M, Mitaka can’t catch a break, Switch/vers Kylux
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-29
Updated: 2018-12-29
Packaged: 2019-09-29 17:50:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17208068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LydiaBSlade/pseuds/LydiaBSlade
Summary: Mitaka inadvertently creates an opportunity for Hux to get laid.





	Trip Section

**Author's Note:**

> If you haven’t read the previous stories in this series, this is set in the fall of 2003, and Hux is in his first semester as a cadet. The “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” policy is still in effect, and first-year cadets generally aren’t allowed to leave post, which makes it difficult for Hux to do anything with his not-boyfriend Ben Solo. 
> 
> One additional note: this story includes a fair amount of discussion of Jewish heritage. Some of the Jewish characters have conflicted feelings about their identity, and Hux’s responses are somewhat insensitive, because, well, it’s Hux. I didn’t feel that any of this rose to the level of requiring a tag for anti-Semitism, but FYI in case that’s not something you want to read right now.
> 
> As always, please feel free to let me know if you feel this fic needs additional tags or warnings.

“Hux?” says Mitaka, one evening in October. “Guess what?”

“What?” Hux asks without turning around.

“Remember a few weeks ago when you were complaining that you wouldn’t be able to go home to the city until Thanksgiving?”

“That was a private phone conversation with someone else, but - yes.”

“Well,” Mitaka says, undeterred, “I have an idea!”

“What?”

“The Jewish choir is going there in a couple of weeks! And they go there a lot. You should join the choir and come with us!”

Hux laughs. “Okay,” he says. “There’s only two problems with that: I’m not Jewish. And I can’t sing.”

“That’s okay! Like half the choir isn’t Jewish. And you can just kind of quietly sing along from the back row. You’ll be fine.”

“I can’t just call up the officer-in-charge and tell him that I’m a tone-deaf Protestant but I’d like him to give me a free trip to New York,” Hux objects.

“You don’t have to - I’ll talk to the conductor for you. He’s a friend of mine. And he’s Muslim! He’s not going to care that you’re not Jewish.” Mitaka laughs. “He’s really good-looking, actually, and the ladies at the synagogues are always trying to hook him up with their daughters.”

“This is getting more bizarre all the time,” Hux says. “How did you find out about this secret club of non-Jews who pretend to be able to sing so that they can go on free trips to synagogues in the greater New York area?”

“Some of us can sing! And some of us are Jewish. I am.”

“Oh, I had no idea.”

“Yeah, no one ever thinks I’m Jewish, because my grandfather is Japanese-American, and that’s where my last name comes from. But my mother is Jewish, so under Jewish law, if you have a Jewish mother, then - “

“Mitaka,” Hux says patiently, “I grew up in New York City. I know how it works.”

“Okay! Great. So you’ll come with us?”

“Sure,” says Hux. “Why not? I haven’t done anything very ridiculous in a while.”

Mitaka beams. “Awesome! I’ll call Abdullah right now.”

***

A week later, after an audition that consisted of attempting to match his voice to various notes on the piano (Abdullah had looked progressively more and more disappointed until Mitaka’s pleading face had finally persuaded him to declare Hux’s voice “good enough for government work”), Hux calls Ben while Mitaka is in class.

“Hey,” Hux says, “are you free this weekend?”

“I guess so - why?”

“Because I should be able to come down to the city. I have a thing on Friday evening but I think I’m mostly free after that.”

“Really?” Ben says. “That’s awesome! How’d you work that out?”

“Um,” says Hux. “This is going to sound really weird, but Mitaka arranged for me to join the Jewish choir. And apparently we’re performing at some synagogue on the Upper East Side on Friday night.”

Ben laughs hysterically. “Are you serious?”

“Yes, unfortunately. I think I’m just going to stand in the back and hum.”

“I’m starting to like Mitaka,” Ben says. “Which synagogue?”

Hux pulls up the e-mail from the choir director. “Someplace called Temple Emanu-El.”

“Really? Even better! I’ll come watch you guys perform.”

Hux tenses. “You really don’t have to do that. You could just meet me later.”

Ben cackles. “Are you going to be singing, like, ‘Hatikvah’ and stuff like that? I wouldn’t miss that for anything. This is going to be hilarious.”

“But I don’t know how I’m going to explain why you’re there.”

“At Temple Emanu-El? Hux, I have way more reason to be there than you do. My family are members there. I mean, we hardly ever go, because my mom is always working and my dad hates organized religion, but we were just there for Yom Kippur. And my parents got married there.”

“Oh,” Hux says. “Somehow I always forget that you’re Jewish.”

“Sometimes I think you forget I ever do anything besides give you blowjobs. Hux, I invited you to my bar mitzvah.”

“You did? I don’t remember that.”

“I do. You didn’t come.”

“My father probably never gave me the invitation.”

“Oh sure, blame him,” says Ben, half-jokingly. “I think you were just doing your thing that you do where you ignore me because you can’t handle how much you want me.”

“I do not do that,” Hux responds indignantly. “And I certainly wasn’t doing that when I was _thirteen_.”

“You do. And you obviously don’t remember what it was like to be thirteen.”

“I think it’s just that your name doesn’t sound Jewish,” Hux says. “‘Solo’ sounds maybe Italian or Spanish.”

“It’s really Solomon,” Ben says. “My grandfather changed it when he moved to New York from Russia. Because he didn’t want to sound Jewish.” Ben sounds surprisingly bitter about this. 

“Maybe it’s just as well,” Hux says. “‘Benjamin Solomon’ sounds like a law firm.”

“Fuck off, Hux,” Ben responds. “I think it’s stupid. Everyone still knows we’re Jewish - except you apparently - but now we have this name that doesn’t mean anything.”

“It does mean something. It means ‘alone.’”

“Exactly,” says Ben. “It doesn’t connect us to anything. There isn’t any Solo family besides us. There aren’t any, like, tombstones in Eastern Europe with ‘Solo’ on them.”

“That’s kind of a grim family connection to wish you had.”

“Well, welcome to Jewish history. Not everyone’s heritage is, like, ‘Tee-hee, let’s see how many degrees removed I am from the throne of England!’”

“Was that supposed to be a British accent?” Hux asks. “I honestly can’t tell. Besides, actual British people don’t sit around obsessing about how closely related they are to the Queen. That’s an American thing.”

“Okay,” Ben says, “granted, we actually have a fancy certificate somewhere from the Society of Plantagenet Dames. Because some crazy cousin of my mother’s did a ton of research and found out that the non-Jewish part of her family was descended from one of the Edwards. Maybe the one who got murdered because he kept sleeping with so many dudes, that would be kind of appropriate.”

Hux laughs. “See? I told you that kind of obsession is an American thing. I have no idea how many Edwards I’m related to.”

“Hopefully not the same Edward as me, I don’t want to be your cousin.”

“Anyway,” Hux says, “if you’re so upset that your grandfather changed his name, why don’t you just change it back to Solomon? That would make more sense than calling yourself ‘Kylo Ren’ if you really care so much about your Jewish heritage.”

“Hux, you’re like the world’s WASP-iest person.”

“So?”

“So the fact that I like sucking your cock doesn’t mean that you get to tell me how to be Jewish.”

***

On Friday afternoon, Mitaka sits next to Hux on the bus to Manhattan, bouncing his legs excitedly and chattering about everything that he wants to see in the city. Hux stares out the window at the blur of road signs and autumn leaves, only half-listening. Apparently the choir is doing a tour of the city on Saturday, then having Sunday brunch at Carnegie Deli.

“Is the whole itinerary mandatory?” Hux asks. “I mean, I grew up here. I don’t really need to do that kind of touristy stuff when I go home.”

“I don’t think so,” Mitaka says. “We can go do whatever we want as long as we don’t miss the bus back on Sunday afternoon.” He looks at Hux as if there’s something more he wants to say. 

Hux turns back towards the window. Mitaka is quiet.

***

The synagogue’s main sanctuary is vast, like the inside of a cathedral. It smells like floor polish and perfume. The stateliness of the setting makes Hux feel worse about his inability to sing. 

“I didn’t know we were going to actual religious services,” Hux whispers to Mitaka as the rabbi walks up to the podium and directs them to open their prayer books. “I thought we were just here to sing and then leave.”

“It’s Friday evening services, they’re not that long.” Mitaka plucks a white kippah out of a basket at the end of their row of seats and sticks it on the back of Hux’s head. “Don’t stress about it. Just stand up and sit down when I do.”

Hux sits and stands uncomfortably, as directed, trying not to turn around and look for Ben in the crowd behind him. At the end of the service, as everyone stands and the hum of voices rises, Mitaka turns towards Hux and shakes his hand vigorously. His hand is warm and damp with sweat. “Shabbat shalom!”

“Thanks,” Hux says. He looks over Mitaka’s shoulder and spots Ben hovering near the back of the room, looking like a large bat in his usual layers of black. The group of older women who had welcomed the cadets to the synagogue have made their way over to him. They seem excited to see him: they’re hugging him and kissing his cheeks. One of the women grabs his shaggy hair and pulls on it. Ben is laughing, looking embarrassed but pleased. 

Mitaka is poking Hux. “Hey, let’s go. We’re on.”

The crowd slowly quiets and sits back down, looking up expectantly at the cadets as they file onto the stage. Hux feels especially tense and unmusical with so many eyes on him; he opts to just try to convincingly lip-synch his way through a medley of Hebrew songs that includes, as Ben predicted, “Hatikvah.” Ben is too far away for Hux to see his expression but Hux is fairly sure he’s smirking. 

As the concert ends (with a incongruous Toby Keith song that sets Hux’s teeth on edge) and the cadets file off the stage, Hux tries to be unobtrusive about grabbing his backpack and moving towards the back of the hall. Mitaka touches his arm. “Hux! Hey! What do you have planned for tonight?”

“I’m, er, meeting some people I know from high school,” Hux says uncomfortably. He wonders if that statement amounts to a violation of West Point’s honor code. If he runs into Ben’s parents, it won’t be, technically. 

“Oh,” says Mitaka. “I was hoping we could go see the city together! Remember, you said you would show me around?”

“I guess I did say that,” Hux admits. “But aren’t you doing the city tour with the group tomorrow anyway?”

“Yes, but like you said, that’s all going to be touristy stuff. It would be so much cooler to see it with you! Like, all the places locals go.”

Hux hesitates. He feels a hand on his shoulder. “Ready to go?” Ben asks. “Hey, it’s Cadet Private Mitaka!” He grins. “Long time no see.” 

“Hi Kylo,” says Mitaka, looking from Ben to Hux with a look of disappointment and dawning understanding that makes Hux’s stomach cramp with anxiety. “I guess you guys are hanging out tonight then?”

“Yeah, we have plans,” Ben says. “Let’s go, Hux.”

“If you’re not staying with our host family tonight I need the address where you’ll be to give to Abdullah,” Mitaka says, still looking at them with wounded eyes. “For accountability.”

“Um, okay,” says Hux. He weighs the likelihood that he’ll be brought up on an honor violation if he gives a fake address against the possibility that someone from the choir could turn up and find him with Ben. In Ben’s bedroom, with the shirtless David Bowie pictures on the wall, and the single bed. He decides that that will still be easier to talk his way out of than an indisputable lie. He writes Ben’s address in Mitaka’s little notebook. 

“Thanks,” says Mitaka. “Did you enjoy the concert?” he asks Ben politely.

“Yeah, it was great,” says Ben, looking at Hux. He’s definitely smirking now. “I’m always really inspired by Hux’s passion for Zionism.” Hux jabs him with an elbow. 

Mitaka smiles wanly. “Yeah, for sure. Well, have a nice weekend! See you around.”

As they turn to leave Ben yanks the kippah off Hux’s head and drops it back into the basket. “You look adorable in a yarmulke,” he says loudly - Hux winces and looks around to see if anyone is listening - “but you’ll probably want to leave that here.” He looks Hux up and down. “New uniform?”

“It’s just the winter version of what I was wearing before.” Hux is in dress grey - a grey wool tunic and trousers with black trim and a matching hat. For the choir performance, they’ve also been given tasseled red sashes to wear around their waists. “So do I still look like a flight attendant?”

“Not really. This is more like a Star Trek costume. You’re, like, sexy Spock now.”

“Oh,” Hux says, annoyed. “Even better.” Ben suddenly taps Hux’s nose with one finger. Hux slaps his hand away. “What was that?”

Ben is looking at him fondly. “You’re doing your angry nose twitch thing! It’s cute.”

“I don’t have an ‘angry nose twitch thing,’” Hux says, feeling his face turning red. He hurries towards the exit, hoping to prevent the other cadets from overhearing any more of Ben’s comments.

“You do,” says Ben, following him. “That’s one of the reasons I enjoy pissing you off - because you make that face, like an angry rabbit.”

“Great,” says Hux, stepping out of the overheated sanctuary into the crisp October evening. The cool air feels good on his flushed face. “I’m sure that will really encourage my soldiers to respect me in the future.”

They cross the street, towards the park, and turn north to walk up Fifth Avenue towards Ben’s apartment building. The soot-stained marble and limestone facades of the Upper East Side glow dimly white in the moonlight. It’s quiet, as if they’re really alone. 

“If your hypothetical future soldiers give you any trouble you can just beat them with this fancy belt,” Ben says, hooking his fingers into the back of Hux’s sash. “Nice tassels, by the way.”

“Your friends seem to agree.”

“Who?”

“One of those women who was hugging you before. When we arrived she asked me if she could squeeze my tassels.” 

Ben laughs. “Did you let her?”

“I said okay because I didn’t want to be rude, but it was weird.” 

Ben’s warm hand is still on the small of Hux’s back, gently stroking the knobs of his spine with his thumb. Hux debates whether this is too much to allow in public. But they’re in the evening darkness under the trees, and Ben’s hand is mostly hidden by Hux’s backpack. No one is looking at them. For the moment, Hux doesn’t pull away. 

“Poor Hux,” Ben says. “I guess I should have warned you that hanging out with me means that you have a non-zero chance of being periodically attacked by excited Jewish women.”

“Why, you spend a lot of time with those ladies from the synagogue?”

“I was mostly thinking of my mother and her friends,” Ben says, “but yes, actually, I used to.”

“Really?” Hux glances sideways at Ben. 

“Yeah, when I was like fourteen, fifteen,” Ben says, looking at the ground. “That was the first time my dad left. He was gone for like six months, and I started coming to events at the temple all the time. I was usually, like, the only person there under fifty, so they were always really happy to see me. My mom was usually too busy to come with me. So the women’s group kind of adopted me. They’d have me over for dinner, try to teach me to make challah, stuff like that.”

Hux raises one eyebrow. “That sounds much more wholesome than anything I ever would have imagined you doing after school.”

Ben laughs. “Yeah, well, I eventually decided that religion is all bullshit and I stopped going, but they’re still always really friendly when I do show up.” He grins at Hux, his uneven profile highlighted for a moment by the headlights of a passing car. “And it’s always good to be around people who fully appreciate how beautiful my hair is. Mrs. Greenberg has been telling me for years now that if she had hair like mine she’d never cut it.”

Hux laughs. It occurs to him suddenly that Ben had mentioned weeks ago that his father had taken off again. “By the way,” Hux asks carefully, “have you heard from your father lately?”

Ben frowns, his hand tensing against Hux’s back. “Yeah, he came back for the High Holidays.”

“Oh. Didn’t you say he hates organized religion?”

“He does. It didn’t go well.”

“Sorry to hear.”

“It’s okay.” Ben laughs. “Actually, it was kind of funny. I decided to try to fast this year with my mom, to make her happy, even though I don’t believe in any of this stuff. And my dad hates fasting; he thinks it’s the stupidest kind of religion. He kept waving food under our noses until I finally gave in and went to Burger King with him for a bacon cheeseburger around three in the afternoon. My mom wasn’t thrilled.”

“I can imagine,” says Hux, his mouth tightening. Hux has never cared about religion, but he does care, passionately, about being treated with respect. “Why does he care whether you fast or not, anyway?”

Ben shrugs. “Oh, you know, he had kind of a rough childhood; his family doesn’t have a lot of Plantagenet dames in it. The usual story - they escaped from the Soviet Union after the war with nothing except some jewelry sewed into their clothes and, like, five dollars. My dad’s father eventually ended up doing pretty well for himself in the Diamond District, with a bunch of his shady friends, but when my dad was little they were poor. Like, really poor, like they didn’t have enough food a lot of the time. So it drives my dad crazy to see people just refusing to eat.”

“I guess that’s understandable,” Hux says reluctantly. 

“Plus my dad only wants to be part of anything if he can make sarcastic comments about it the whole time. He’s not really much of a joiner.” 

“Someone who’s related to you is sarcastic and uninterested in being a team player? I find that impossible to believe.” 

Ben pinches Hux’s ass hard in response. Hux suppresses a yelp and shoves him away.

“His whole side of the family is like that,” Ben says. “Like, they survived the pogroms, they survived the Bolsheviks, they almost starved to death during World War II, all that. I think by the time they came here they were just, like, we’re done with all this Jewish bullshit. We’re Americans now. Enough already.” 

Ben slides his arm around Hux’s waist. _Someone might see us, I should make him let go_ , Hux thinks, but he doesn’t move away.

“Anyway,” Ben says, “so that was way more about my family than you ever wanted to know. What about you? Have you heard from your father lately?”

Hux shrugs. “He’s called a couple of times since I went back to school. We don’t really have a lot to say to each other.”

“Does he even know you’re here this weekend?”

“No.” Hux grimaces. “There is literally no aspect of this weekend that I would want him to know about.”

They’re almost at Ben’s apartment building by now. The evening air has gotten colder; their breath comes in white puffs of steam under the streetlights. Ben’s body is an enveloping warmth against Hux’s side. 

“I don’t think anyone will be home,” Ben says, before Hux can ask. “My mom has some fancy dinner to go to tonight, and my dad fucked off to Texas last week with one of his friends.” Ben rolls his eyes as he unlocks the front door. “He has another really great investment tip that’s definitely not a scam that he wants to look into.”

Hux starts to say something, but as soon as they step inside the lobby, Ben is kissing him insistently, squashing him and his backpack against the row of mailboxes on the wall. Ben’s mouth is meltingly hot against Hux’s after the chill of the air outside. He slides his hands up the back of Hux’s thighs, squeezing his ass, rocking their hips together, sliding his tongue into Hux’s mouth. Heat peals through Hux’s body, like a bell ringing. His service cap falls sideways over one eye. 

“Let’s go upstairs,” Hux says, shoving at Ben’s big shoulders. They’re still visible from the street outside, if anyone cares to peer through the narrow lead-paned windows on either side of the front door.

“Mmm, okay.” Ben doesn’t let go of him; instead he turns Hux around in his arms and tugs off his backpack so that he can fit himself snugly against Hux’s back, pressing his face into Hux’s hair, rubbing against him from behind. Hux can feel that he’s already getting hard. They shuffle awkwardly to the elevator together, like partners in a three-legged race. “When we get upstairs,” Ben says in Hux’s ear, “I’m going to figure out how this toy soldier costume comes off you and then I’m going to bend you over and eat you out until you’re begging me to let you come.” 

“I’m not going to beg you.” They step into the elevator; Hux shivers as Ben’s teeth close gently over his earlobe. 

“You did last time... that was hot as fuck. I jerk off thinking about that all the time.” Ben rolls his hips slowly, grinding his erection against Hux’s ass through their clothes, his fingers tightening on Hux’s hip. “I love making you feel so good that you can’t stay quiet. Love making you admit that you need this.”

As the ancient elevator creaks slowly towards the sixth floor, Ben manages to unhook the high collar of Hux’s tunic. The metal clips that hold his starched white collar inserts in place have been digging into Hux’s throat all night. Hux sucks in a sharp breath as Ben runs his tongue over the marks they’ve left on his skin.

Hux freezes as the elevator jerks to a halt and he sees that someone is waiting for it in the hallway. Ben lets go of him. “Hi Mom,” he says, a bit sheepishly, as the door opens. 

Leia is dressed formally in a red dress and a long black coat, her hair pulled up into a complicated arrangement that looks like a crown. Her sharp eyes track over their flushed faces and Hux’s undone collar. She looks amused. “Hi Ben,” she says. “And Hux! It’s so good to see you again. Ben talks about you all the time.”

“ _Mom._ ” 

“What? You do.” She smiles at Hux. “And I see why. You look so handsome in your uniform, Hux - and you’ve gotten so tall! How is everything going at West Point?”

“It’s not bad,” says Hux uncomfortably. “I can’t complain.”

“It’s a very challenging environment, isn’t it? I’ve heard stories.”

“Mom,” Ben says, “don’t you have somewhere you need to be?”

“I do, but I’d like to talk to Hux for a moment,” she says. She turns to unlock the apartment door. “Come in, sit down.”

Hux follows her in, clutching his backpack in one hand. He tries to be unobtrusive about re-hooking his collar. “You have a beautiful home, ma’am,” he says stiffly. Ben snorts behind him.

“Thank you,” Leia says, glancing sharply at Ben, “but please don’t call me ma’am. Just Leia is fine.” Hux tries to picture himself calling Ben’s mother by her first name and fails utterly. “Please, sit down. Would you like something to drink?”

“Mom,” Ben says again, sounding increasingly exasperated, “it’s fine. Just go to your dinner thing.”

“In a moment.” Leia perches on the edge of a stiff-looking sofa and gestures Hux towards a leather armchair nearby. He sits down in it obediently. “So tell me, really. How are things at your school?”

Hux looks at Ben, who is still hovering irritably near the door. “Really, it’s fine,” he says. “The hardest part was basic training last summer. They still haze us and make us do stupid things sometimes, but we’re mostly just taking regular college classes now.”

“I see,” Leia says. “So what are you studying? Do you have a major?”

“Yes, electrical engineering.”

“Don’t get him started on that, he’ll go on for hours,” Ben says from the door. Hux glares at him. “He’s building a robot next semester. I’ve never heard him sound so enthusiastic about anything in his life.” 

Leia smiles. “That’s wonderful,” she says. “Is that what you’d ultimately like to do? Or do you plan to make the military a career?”

“I’ve always wanted to be an Army officer,” Hux says, sitting up straighter. “I’m interested in doing more experimental engineering work as well, and I might have the opportunity to stay on active duty and work on weapons programs later on, after I finish company command.”

“I see,” Leia says. “It sounds like you’ve really thought this through.” She glances sideways at Ben. “Even if you do decide to leave at some point, you’re required to serve for a certain number of years after you graduate, aren’t you?”

“Yes, you have to serve at least five years on active duty, and three years in the reserves.”

“That’s quite a commitment to make at 18,” she says. “I’m impressed.”

“Well, we have two years to decide,” Hux says. “We can choose to leave at any time before the first day of our junior year.”

“Would you ever think about doing that?” Leia asks. “Just take the two years of free college credits and go to a regular engineering school?” Ben and Leia are both looking intently at Hux now.

“Absolutely not,” says Hux firmly. “I think that’s an abuse of the system. And this is what I’ve always wanted to do. I would never give it up.”

Leia looks pointedly at Ben. Ben makes a frustrated sound in his throat. “Happy now, Mom?” he asks. “Any more questions, or is this interrogation over?”

Leia glances at her watch. “I really do need to be going,” she says, standing up. “It was a pleasure to see you, Hux.”

“Likewise,” Hux says, narrowly managing to avoid tacking on another “ma’am.” Leia tries to hug Ben as she walks past him to the door, but he shrugs her off. “What was all that about?” Hux asks him, after the door closes behind her. 

“Nothing,” Ben says, crossing the room in two long strides to kneel on the armchair, straddling Hux’s lap. He leans down to suck on the sensitive skin just under Hux’s ear, making Hux squirm under him. “Where were we?”

***

Later on, in Ben’s bedroom, Ben delivers on his promise: he pushes Hux on to the bed, unhooks and unravels the layers of Hux’s uniform, puts Hux’s legs over his shoulders and licks into him until Hux is gasping and pleading and arching his back and coming all over himself almost as soon as Ben touches his cock. 

Afterwards, Hux flips Ben onto his back and settles between his legs, wrapping one hand around Ben’s cock, trying to suck as much of it into his mouth as he can, determined to figure out how to do this correctly. 

“Ah - fuck,” Ben gasps, “you’re getting so good at this. Can you - something I really like - can you finger me?”

Hux hesitates, biting his lip. “Don’t I need lube or something?”

“I have some.” Ben leans over and pulls a tube out of a drawer in his nightstand. “Don’t worry, you’re not going to hurt me.”

Hux squeezes some lube out onto his fingers - it seems like a lot, but he really has no idea how much to use - and slides his fingers tentatively between Ben’s thighs. Ben spreads his legs helpfully. He’s propped against the headboard, naked, his hands behind his head, looking at Hux through his shaggy bangs. His mouth is swollen and red. Hux thinks about biting into the curve of his bicep, about licking the paler skin and tufts of dark hair under his arms, but he doesn’t want Ben to think he’s weird. 

Hux runs the tips of two lubed fingers lightly between Ben’s cheeks, over the tightly-puckered furl of muscle where Ben seems to want to be touched. Ben breathes in, closing his eyes, and Hux slides one finger slowly into him. Ben makes a sound in his throat and his cock twitches; Hux leans down to run his tongue over the head, licking the underside, tasting salt. Ben’s hips jerk and he gasps, clenching around Hux’s finger. “ _Fuck_ ,” he says. “I love that. Please - can you slide another finger in, fuck me with them?”

Hux does as he’s told, moving his fingers in and out, trying to keep sucking Ben’s cock at the same time. He feels a bit like he’s trying to pat his head and rub his stomach simultaneously. Ben seems to be enjoying it: he’s making the little high-pitched, almost distressed-sounding noises that he makes when he’s close to coming. Hux is getting hard again, listening to him. 

“You like this?” Hux asks, breathing against the shaft of Ben’s cock, feeling how tight he is around Hux’s fingers, blood-hot. 

“Yeah - don’t stop - it’s so good - “ Hux curls his fingers forward slightly inside Ben, running his tongue over Ben’s balls, sucking them gently into his mouth. Ben groans. 

“You ever do this to yourself?” Hux asks, still moving his fingers experimentally, trying to figure out exactly what spot to rub to make Ben squirm. 

“Yeah,” Ben says, panting, arching up against Hux’s mouth as Hux licks his way slowly up the underside of his cock. “I have some toys... I jerk off with one inside me sometimes. Thinking about...”

“Thinking about what?” Hux looks up at Ben as he slides his mouth down over the head of Ben’s cock again, sucking hard. Ben is watching his mouth, sloe-eyed, flushed all the way down to his chest. 

“Ah, _fuck_ ,” Ben says as Hux moves his fingers in and out faster, feeling more confident now. “Uh - sometimes I think about being tied up in your room in the barracks. Like, you left me like that, naked and hard with a toy inside me. Legs spread. So you could come back and fuck me whenever you wanted.”

Hux groans. He’s fully hard again now, rubbing against the mattress. “That would be amazing. I wish we could do that.” 

“Hux - can you fuck me? Please? I have condoms.”

Hux breathes in hard. “Really? You want that?”

“Fuck, yeah. I want to come on your cock.” Hux feels those words all the way down his spine. He pulls his fingers out slowly, trying to be gentle. 

Ben is already reaching back into the nightstand drawer, pulling out a foil-wrapped packet and handing it to Hux. It has a cartoon drawing of Darth Vader’s helmet on it. Hux’s fingers are too slippery with lube for him to get a good grip on the edge of the condom. “Fuck,” Hux says irritably, trying unsuccessfully to tear it open.

“Hey, I got it,” Ben says, taking it from him. “Just lie on your back. I want to ride you.”

Hux settles back on the bed, gripping the sheets with both hands and breathing in shakily as Ben rolls the condom down over his cock and strokes him with a lubed-up hand. “Oh _fuck_ ,” he gasps, trying not to thrust his hips up, as Ben straddles him and begins to slide slowly down on his cock. The slick heat of Ben’s body is overwhelming. Hux squeezes his eyes shut, willing himself not to come immediately.

“Ah - that feels so fucking good,” Ben groans, starting to rock up and down. Hux is taking deep breaths, eyes still tightly shut, trying to concentrate on controlling himself. “Hux - look at me. I want you to watch me come all over you while you fuck me.”

Hux opens his eyes. Ben is kneeling over him, his thick thighs on either side of Hux’s waist, stroking his cock with one big hand. He’s making those high-pitched noises again, moving his hips faster, and Hux can’t resist thrusting up hard into him, then again and again, as Ben’s mouth falls open and his hand speeds up on his cock, like he loves it, like he can’t get enough. 

It’s all too much - the sight of Ben’s face, the sounds he’s making - and Hux can’t help himself, can’t stop himself from coming, hard, his toes curling against the sheets, as Ben slams his hips down with a groan. They’re still moving, frantically, as Hux shivers through his orgasm, hoping he can stay hard long enough to give Ben what he wants. A moment later, Ben curls forward, panting, come spurting thick and white through his fingers. 

***

Later that night, Hux wakes up suddenly when the radiator hisses loudly in the dark. Ben apparently still sleeps in his childhood bed: it’s barely big enough for one adult man, let alone two. Hux is squashed between Ben and the wall. He doesn’t entirely mind: he feels remarkably warm and safe with his back against the wall and Ben’s bulk between him and the cold room, but his arm is going numb. He disentangles himself as gently as possible and stumbles out to look for the bathroom. 

“Hux?” Ben says quietly when he comes back.

“Yes?”

“I was thinking,” Ben says. He pauses. There’s something forlorn in his voice that discourages Hux from making any sarcastic comments. “About what you were telling my mom earlier - do you really plan to keep doing this military thing forever?”

“Yeah,” says Hux. “Probably. Unless they kick me out. Why do you ask?”

“No reason.”

Hux opts not to inquire further. He slides back into his spot, fitting his chest against the broad, warm expanse of Ben’s back. He sleeps soundly until the sunlight through the dormer windows is shining across their faces.

**Author's Note:**

> A few notes/trivia:
> 
> 1\. West Point’s Jewish choir and Hillel are, in fact, very welcoming to non-Jews. The Jewish community there makes a particular point of reaching out to cadets from other minority religions who may not otherwise have a strong religious support network in the area.
> 
> 2\. West Point’s honor code (“A cadet will not lie, cheat, steal, or tolerate those who do”) is strictly enforced, even with regard to white lies in social situations. One of the sad catch-22s of the Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell era was that LGBT cadets were essentially required to lie to everyone all the time, while simultaneously facing expulsion or remediation if they were caught doing so. 
> 
> 3\. I realize that establishing the existence of the original trilogy in this story (e.g., the Darth Vader condom and a few other references in the previous fics) makes it extremely weird that Ben’s parents are named Leia and Han Solo... my bad. Please don’t think too hard about that.
> 
> 4\. Would anyone want to read a fic about scrappy Russian-Jewish immigrant kid Han Solo in the late 1960s?
> 
> As always, I’m on Twitter under the same username, and I would love to hear from you!


End file.
